


Trouble In Paradise?

by leatherandlace



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Swan Queen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 01:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4727780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leatherandlace/pseuds/leatherandlace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hurts giving the person you love advice about the person they love. Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble In Paradise?

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know my motivation to write this, it's just a little thing I wrote in Study Hall.
> 
> My apologies for any grammatical errors. Make sure to leave a Comment and/or Kudos!
> 
> Follow my Tumblr: reginaswifesaywhat

**Trouble In Paradise?**

 

 

“Oh my god, will you stop complaining?” Emma groaned, setting down her paintbrush and turned to talk to Regina. “I’ll leave if you complain one more time about getting paint on your shorts.”

 

 

Regina scoffed, “These aren’t just _regular_ shorts Emma. I had to drive all the way to Portland to get these.”

 

 

Emma rolled her eyes as the brunette smoothed down her shorts, “Well then why the hell are you wearing them to paint?” Emma gestured to the cappuccino-colored paint stains dotting her beans and raggedy baseball tee.

 

 

Regina harrumphed, but continued to paint without quitting her grumbling.

 

 

The Mayor had called up Emma at 4:30 in the morning—who promptly told her to never call her this early in the morning again. She then hung up, but eventually picked up the phone after Regina called her for the sixth time on repeat.

 

 

“I need help painting my deck.” Regina argued with her for quite a while (“Emma, I don’t care that is it’s this early! Wake up, smell the roses!”), and finally Emma trudged out of bed. 

 

 

So her she was, painting Regina’s massive deck that led to the back yard. She’d been painting for at least three hours—easy—and all Regina had done to help was make a few bold strokes and complain the whole time.

 

 

But, honestly, Emma didn’t really care. The company of the hard-assed Madame Mayor was the deal breaker of any event.

 

 

And plus, painting Regina’s deck was a hell of a lot more pleasing than do anything with Hook. 

 

 

Lately, all he talked about was how “well their relationship was going”, and “Emma we’re meant to be I traded my ship for you love me”. He kept telling her what to do, where to go, and when to go there. It was tiring, and Emma was getting sick of it.

 

 

Almost as if Regina read her mind, Emma was brought out of her unpleasant trance by the woman’s gravelly voice. “So, how’s your relationship with Guyliner going? Still making eyes?”

 

 

“We never ‘made eyes’,” Emma rolled her eyes, “We certainly don’t now,” She ignored Regina’s questioning eyes, focusing on the plank of wood she was currently covering with a third coat.

 

 

“Trouble in paradise, I see?” Regina asked, and Emma could tell what she was doing. She often used sarcasm like this, just to cover up how she really felt about the situation. They were friends—best friends, even—it would make sense for Regina to be concerned, right?”

 

 

“I guess.” Emma eventually said. The woman across her scoffed at her brusque response, but Emma didn’t elaborate.

 

 

“Well if you’re not going to talk to me, mine as well just leave,” Regina put her hand on the sheriff’s shoulder, “I can paint myself, but I wanted you over. Nice company.” Emma blushed in spite of herself.

 

 

“Thanks, Reggie.” Emma grinned at her friend—whom she knew hated that nickname. Emma knew very well that if anyone else would dare call her that, they’d get a fireball to the face. Not there, though.

 

 

“Idiot.”

 

 

“Yours.” Emma quipped. Regina still looked curious though, sending her a concerned glance every once in a while, so Emma finally gave up, “Okay, so Hook’s just been…insufferable, as you would say.”

 

 

Regina frowned. “How so?”

 

 

“He’s always the one calling the shots, you know? Telling me what we’re gonna do, answering for me when I’m asked a question.” Emma shrugged with indifference, even though Regina knew it was bothering her. “I’m don’t know, it’s probably nothing. I’m just overreacting.” She looked down at her lap, mentally cursing herself for being such an idiot.

 

 

“No, Emma, don’t think like that. You’re _not_ overreacting, I assure you.” Regina nudged her shoulder sympathetically, “No one—especially your boyfriend—should be telling you what to do. You’re your own person, Emma.”

 

 

Emma smiled at her, shaking her head. “Thanks. It—it really means a lot.” She turned back around, picking the paintbrush back up.

 

 

Regina did the same, and the two were left in comfortable silence. She looked at the blonde, the way her hair shined in the sun, the way she was working tirelessly for her just to help.

 

 

It really hurt giving the person you love advice about the person they love.


End file.
